The Green Light Shines On
by MysteriousMiss98
Summary: A bunch of Small stories/ writing prompts put to use for the Great Gatsby. Supports all ships, doesn't always fit with the novel or the movie, and not all the stories are connected, if they are it'll say in the notes or the title. I'll also take ideas from readers if they want me to write a story, just drop it in the comments. All characters & some OC's included
1. Chapter 1

She sat on their bed, propped up against the dark oak bed post. She held a cigarette in her hand and put it out on the golden ash tray that sat beside her on her bedside table. She exhaled, a cloud of smoke forming in the brisk wind that came from their bedroom window that was slightly pushed open. The room was lit only by the wintry sky against their ivory curtains that swayed a little from the breeze. Her husband stood in front of the window, creating a grey silhouette around him.

The velvet black covers slipped off of her shoulders and fell down to her thighs. Only in her French black lace lingerie she shivered to the touch, curling herself in a ball as her teeth chattered. "It's the middle of January. Why on earth would you have the window open?"

He barely turned his head to glance back at her with little interest, then retreated to staring out of the window again. "I suppose I hadn't noticed." He mumbled. "It's cold in here no matter the weather."

She glared at him, gritting her teeth. She threw the blankets off of her until they were shoved to the foot of the bed. She sat up, her feet touching the cold wooden floor. She stood up quickly hoping to gain some sort of warmth. Hanging off the bed post was her long satin black robe, she pulled it off of and slipped it over her, quickly wrapping it tight around her slender body.

She looked over her husbands' shoulder to see what had captured so much of his attention- though she was sure she already knew. Through the curtains she could see the green light, glittering across the frozen bay. She saw the red brick house standing behind it that she remembered fondly. The house was a beautiful memory and a horrible reminder to what had been and what is now. Damn that light. Her husband stood in front of her, already dressed in a black and white suit for the day. She was certain he had been up to something way before she had even been awake.

She stared at the back of his neck, picturing how his eyes were looking forlornly over the same object he had once claimed to despise. It had been a year though, now that they were home and he was well again she supposed that green light had taken her place as his one enchanted object once more.

With a shaky breath she spoke. "You're still in love with her, aren't you?"

She felt she had watched him forever, as if time stood still yet it didn't. He didn't respond, standing as a statue for what must have been hours as she and her servants gathered all her things in the house. He didn't even say goodbye as she ran down the steps of that glorious mansion she thought was her home.

She could feel his eyes staring at her threw the window as she headed to her car outside, promising herself to never look back as she drove out of his sight and out of West Egg forever.

A/N- That's my first short story for the piece, a little Jordan/ Gatsby action if Gatsby somehow survived and Nick still left for the west. Though I know something like this wouldn't happen I'm really interested in exploring something between these two & I plan to write other stories on that. Comments appreciated always, should post more up soon.


	2. Careless Driver

Minnesota, if there was anything about Minnesota that Daisy had always remembered it was their terrible winters. Snow blanketed the entire town, and the wind made her shiver just at the thought of it.

As the brisk air whipped around her face she drew her white fur coat closer to her; hoping to gain some sense of warmth while she walked down the quietest city street she'd ever been too. Why Nicky so desperately wanted to come back to this simple place she would never understand.

Walking down the grey empty street She approached an older, taller building that read "46 East" in white on the front of a dark green overhead that sheltered the top of a cement staircase. Her aunt told her this was where he resided so she hastily walked up the steps through the door to the complex.

The building itself was far too old for liking, she felt as if the walls were crumbling minute by minute and that with just the right gust of wind the whole place would fall to ash, though she supposed it suited him fine.

Strangers smiled as she walked past. The people here were always pleasant, they greeted her as if she were a celebrity and even if she hated this stiff town of Minnesota she would always feel welcomed.

She headed over to a black elevator where on the inside the walls were painted a deep shade of red. She looked at the buttons on the side and thought... The fifth floor, she strictly remembered her aunt repeating the fifth floor, room number... Oh the room number doesn't matter now! Shed remember it when she sees it. Who can think of numbers at a time like this anyhow?

After what felt like forever the elevator doors finally opened to let her out. She walked endlessly down the halls to find his apartment when she finally found him, turning his key and unlocking his door.

Hastily she walked toward him, calling his name out. Just as he turned to see who Was so eagerly calling for him he felt Daisy wrap her thin arms around him, hugging him as if she were clinging to him.

He was less then eager to return the gesture and instead stood their, still as a statue with his face full of utter shock. She finally untangled her self and looked up at him with those same unfazed bright yet sad eyes. "Oh! How I've missed you- I'd been trying to get ahold of you for sometime. I was worried id lost you forever until I spoke to your mother. Dear aunt had been so concerned about us after shed heard about everything. Come, I have much to tell you."

She disappeared into his home, As if the Air in her voice was what whisked her away into the apartment.

It all happened so fast he believed it didn't happen till he turned to see her sitting their on his couch. "Daisy-" he whispered- so quietly it felt he was trying to shake his own disbelief that she had actually come after all that time of running and hiding. Standing at the door too long, he slowly walked inside and shut the door behind him. He took his shoes off and set his briefcase down, the effect the blonde haired devil gave him left unfaded as he slowly walked over to where she was sitting.

She didn't say anything as he walked over; No reason of why she went searching for him, no excuse for why she had been unable to get in touch with him during the last three or four months- nothing. Instead she stared out of the window across from her, her eyes lost in the grey clouds setting outside of his apartment. She seemed so far away he felt it inconsiderate to interrupt, but the memory of all the that she did clouded any feeling of concern he might have held for her.

Furious he walked over and stood in-front of her, blocking the view of the window with a less then pleased expression on his face. "What are you doing here? Why have you all of a sudden decided to come to Minnesota?"

She raised her head, her Bambi eyes meeting his cold blue irises. She was hiding something. He could see it in the way she looked at him. After moments of silence another far more consuming question plagued his mind.

"You said my mother seemed concerned after hearing all that happened- what did you mean by that?" He knew she wouldn't dare tell his mother of all people what had happened just last summer, and he had been too far deep wallowing in sadness for the mourning of his friend to even bare mentioning his Name; it had to be something else but what else could be more tragic?

Frustratedly she stood, brushing past him to walk to the window; the hem of her long light pink dress fluttering behind her. "For goodness sake don't you read the papers? It has to be in the papers- it must." Her words became a jumbled whisper as she reached the window, as if she were arguing with a voice inside her head telling her otherwise instead of the man she came all this way to find. She began looking out of the window again, her breathe fogging it as her fingertips gently touched the icy cold glass.

Nick had not, in fact, been reading the papers. After he saw the way those tabloids, those vultures made such awful stories and wild accusations about Gatsby after his terrible death he promised to never give into their words again- hadn't even glanced at one since.

"No, no I suppose I haven't. What about the papers? What happened since I'd left that's so troubling?"

She raised her head up and looked at him through the reflection of the window and in a grave voice she spoke. "I left Tom you know."

"No, no I did not know. Is that all?" He didn't want to seem so uninterested, but it was the only response he could provide. It only came as a surprise that she Couldn't play the ditzy wife any longer and not a single part of that idea was necessarily a depressing one. None of their lives were meant to be lived blissfully anyhow, not for long anyways.

She rubbed her lips together, her face in the saddest, dullest form he'd ever seen. "I saw the kind if man he truly was, not the man I fell in love with- or thought I'd fallen in love with. Once we left for France after the accident he had become much colder, crueler. He kept me under his watch Nicky, and if I were to slip away for just one moment he'd be sure to be stern."

So had she come to get away? Such an odd place to go, he would have suggested she run away to Louisville or with Miss. Baker for awhile instead of coming here. "Oh- and how is that? Is that what you're doing here in Minnesota then? I can't see-""

She quickly turned to face him, her eyes interrupting him.

"Listen Nick, when we came back just a few months later, after all the talk had gone down I was able to get in touch with Jordan again. It had been so long since we'd seen each-other and I missed her dearly. I called her about a thousand times when She finally answered and agreed to come over to my house. I know our friendship would never be the same after id left but I wanted to try. Once she arrived we sat on the couch- it all felt so distant between us then. To save the conversation I asked how the two of you were. I left so quick I wasn't aware you had left, and she sort of fell silent for a moment. After enough prying she finally told me, in a low voice that she had loved you once. I'd never seen her cry till then."

Was she here to drag him back then? All these stories had been so inconsistent that if she had mentioned the reason that she was here, it was lost on him. And though he could hardly believe Jordan Baker would say or do any of the things she had just mentioned, these stories she told had to be apart of some elaborate idea that got her to throw herself into the city of Minnesota, smack dab in the middle of winter. "I don't understand. What does Tom or coming to Minnesota got to do with her?"

"I wasn't finished. She had been upset for a long time after that, it took me quite a while to calm her down and at one point Tom got tired of hearing it. He rushed into the room we were in, shouting about how awful of a man you were and she would be stupid to be so upset about you. We were having a row that day already, and Jordan, so angry and bitter toward him said to go to hell and that he was no better. I never thought he'd strike another woman but he did. I'd tried so desperately to stop them both but they wouldn't listen. As she ran out I yelled at him, pushed him off of me with all my might and tried to go after her but she already sped off by the time I'd swung open my door. I watched as her headlights and our friendship faded into the distance."

He heard her whisper to herself what might have been her only regret. "I never should have married him."

Uncontrollably He clenched his fist; anger burning in him like no other for some sort of an answer. "So you finally saw him for the man he was? You didn't have to stay with him- he loved you unconditionally but you let him die and let that rotten scumbag take you again. It was all your fault - and now Jordan had to pay the mistake for him too."

"What do you care?" She cried, her voice unsteady, shaken like the aftermath if a terrible earthquake. "You had left too without even telling her goodbye. You didn't show her you loved her ever not in the way she loved you."

"And how would you know? You left Gatsby- you left everything after it had all fallen apart.! Do you even know How she is now? Had you even cared to check on her-"

"That's it don't you see!" She screamed, Fresh, crystal clear tears falling down her colorless face. She stormed away from her place at the window to the middle of the living room, wiping her eyes with her hands. "Jordan is dead! She died in a terrible car crash after leaving my house. She sped off way too fast- it was too hard to stop. I tried to go to her but Tom pulled me away, saying it was all her fault anyhow. That's why I left him- he killed her Nicky! That's what I came all this way to tell you if, if you would have just listened!" She bent down to her knees and sobbed, a shattered porcelain doll dressed up in pink laying in the middle of his floor.

Suddenly he felt the same antagonizing feeling of wishing for something that Jay must've felt his entire life. He wanted to yell at her for being with such a harmful, hateful waste, for creating this mess they had been so unsuspectedly thrown in; he wished with ill will and cold malice he could find Tom and make him give back all the life he took; he wished to bring Jordan back and yell at her for being so reckless yet the only thing that escaped him was heavy silence.

He stumbled his way on to his couch, his hand pressed against his for head. It wasn't so much the thought that she was dead yet, but the fact that everything he ever cared about from that Summer was now truly gone forever. Her still being there had brought him a comfort that that summer hadn't taken everything but now there was truly nothing left. It was taken, All by the hands of one cruel and selfish man.

She sat up and looked at Nick sitting on the couch, disgusted that he hadn't done anything to comfort her. He had not even said a word or shed a tear since she uttered the word 'death' And suddenly she felt very alone. It was so cold in that room- so very dark and very cold- but that's how everything felt now a days. She brought herself to her feet and dried her eyes to walk to the front door. She grabbed the door handle and swung the door open, standing in the open doorway a moment longer to say one last thing to him.

"The funerals in two days." She sniffed. "It'll be in New York- she's to be buried in the same place they buried Jay. I suppose that'll make it easier for you to see them both. I hope you'll be their Nicky- if not for me then for her."

He couldn't even turn to look her in the eye before he heard the door slam shut.


	3. Careless Driver (Cont)

They closed the black top of the casket as people crowded around, white tissues in their hands and shallow tears falling from their eyes. Farther behind the pool of silk and black lace he stood, his eyes peering over to get one last look at her. She was dressed only in her finest pearls. Her face was as hard and terrifyingly beautiful as he'd ever seen it. Not even thinking to blink he stared at her unforgettable face until it disappeared under the painted wood.

Six men in black were lined up, ready to march out to carry her from the ceremony to the hearse as funeral directors in white gloves held the doors to the outside open for them. Nick recognized a few of the gentlemen as they descended down the concrete steps to the long black car awaiting them at the end.

Having no family besides her terribly elder aunt, too fragile to assist in the precession the six consisted of her coach, an able-bodied man of about 50 who had known her since she was a young Girl, another of the gentlemen was a man he knew well, his uncle that was Daisy's father. The younger three of the six he had recognized from Jordans crowd at the first party he ever went too at Gatsbys. Though Nick couldn't quite recall a time he ever wanted to associate with any of the three he stood beside, the grave faced men shared something that day, an equal feeling of solemnness as they walked down those wide steps with heavy hearts.

He had arrived in New York the very morning after Daisy had told him the news. He stayed in a hotel in Manhattan; choosing to only speak to a few others that he knew were going to be a part of the funeral as well.

He refused to go near either of the eggs during his short time here, knowing it would only bring memories that were all to tattered and the mind plaguing emotions that followed.

On that very same day of arrival he promised himself he would go by aunt Sigourneys to give his condolences, even if he was aware they would only spill out of his mouth as regretful, heartbroken apologies. He remembered standing on her porch, awaiting to be seen and cursed on as he would try to figure out the only words he could utter that were _I'm terribly sorry._

However when she opened her door, teary Eyed and just as helpless as she was when he had last seen her she only smiled faintly at him. He would suggest she hardly knew who he was and could see by looking at her how all the tragedy had only been wearing her down. He began handing her a bouquet of deep red roses then instead asked if she would like him to set them down for her. She nodded gratefully and allowed him in to her all too familiar apartment to set them down in the kitchen.

He looked around the white and marble room remembering one of the first times being there. It was around the time he was mostly running around with her in New York, time spent courting her and _ingratiating hisself with her 'senile' aunt."_ He remembered agreeing to take watch of Sigourney one day, so she could get extra practice on her swing for an upcoming tournament. He had no doubt she had won; if only he were here to have seen her. He remembered the excruciatingly tiring day as it was spent walking around with her aunt into all the little boutiques she exclaimed, in that old gravelly voice of hers, that she just adored. He had to laugh, no matter the womans age she was still as strong as a whip and saw no real difficult reminding you... it amazed him how she was so much like her yet she refused to realize. That night as both Jordan and they arrived back at the apartment he remembered how bright her smile was, seeing her aunt so content at the hand of him. He remembered Sigourney had went to go lay down leaving the two of them in this same exact kitchen. Having been so busy all day they both worked up an appetite- Nick insisted he cook yet when he asked what it was she wanted she Only smirked and stood; smoothing out her short black tennis dress. "Now I'm only going to do this once... So don't get used to It." He watched with curiosity as she walked over to her stove and grabbed a pan then turned to him, her southern accent much more apparent as she spoke. "But honey, let me show you how a real homecooked meal is made." She winked and laughed a little then started cooking. He remembered aimlessly trying to help in little ways though she made it very clear she had no need for it. It was one of the best meals he'd ever had though shed never let him say it.

It was in that moment, standing beside Miss Sigourney that he realized how foolish he'd been, but it was too late. Time seemed to be an endless struggle for all of them.

"Not only is it the loss of the one you care about, but the shared memories that go away with them."

The old voice of aunt Sigourneys tore Nick away from his thoughts. He took his eyes off the single red rose laying on the white countertop and looked at the much wiser, older woman beside him. He didn't want his chest to ache the way it did but her words only deepened the invisible wound he was only now realizing that he had. He couldn't speak, knowing if he did it would be the very thing to bring him to his knees.

Just then, as his hand was pressed against the counter he felt her place her fragile hand on top of his. "I knew you would eventually come back for her."

Her hand, even as it trembled still felt strong on top of his, as if it were a weight keeping him there. He searched for what to say as if the words were etched into the veins of her hand yet the only thing he could was "I'm sorry-"

She patted his hand, harder then he would have expected. "Hush up now. Sorry doesn't bring something back and what do you have to be sorry for? You had nothing to do with it."

To keep his bearings about him, he chuckled. Every time he saw her he would always see some small little thing that reminded him only of Jordan. He sniffed. "Yes. Yes I suppose your right."

"Mr. Carraway- I do hope you'll be a part of the precession."

He looked at her, shocked for the fact that with her ever aging mind she remembered him. "Apart of it?"

"We need another gentlemen to be a Paul bearer for the service- it only seems fit you be a part of it."

"Me?"

"Is their another gentlemen in the room named Mr. Carraway? I believe not."

It seemed wrong for him to be the one that carries her to her death after he'd vanished just months before. "I, I don't-"

"She would want you their- don't be a coward."

It was that conversation on his first day back that brought him here, standing beside an all-black casket gripping onto the side awaiting for her to be placed in the hearse.

The hearse itself was filled to the brim with assortments of flowers from the service, from dark plum flower bouquets too the lightest color of roses. On top of the casket he recognized a small bouquet of deep red roses that only caught his attention because they were his. It didn't feel right, placing them their as if he meant something more than the man that disserted her for reasons so unknown to him now; yet aunt Sigourney insisted that's where they be placed. He wondered sparingly if she was doing it as a form of punishment instead of concern now, yet either of the two were both within reason to him.

He heard the trunk of the hearse shut so he walked over to the car he was sharing with the last person he so wanted to see, Daisy, and her father. He stood by the car and waited silently as all the other guests went to their cars and watched as they all formed in a little black line to the cemetery starting with the hearse.

Around him no one spoke besides Daisys father when He startled them, tapping on the roof of the car loudly as he spoke. "Let's get going then."

Once the car Started moving the only sound heard was the shallow tears of Daisy Buchanon in the seat behind him; along with Her father who would occasionally shift uncomfortably beside him while they dragged on through the wintery city streets of Manhattan.

The breath of life New York had that he once craved now vanished, as if their deaths dimmed the once glittering lights of the streets or the absence of their wild ways made all the other parties and people seem so dull to him now.

He wasn't aware the car had come to a full stop till he heard the opening and slamming of a car door behind him. He was just going to leave himself when Daisy's father caught his attention, clearing his voice & sighing.

"I never thought to be alive for this. Jordan became one of our own after a while- I always believed she would be there to comfort Daisy. It's a shame."

He looked over at Nick expecting some sort of heartfelt response but he only looked out of the window, his lips nearly sewn shut as he watched with cold eyes the trunk of hearse opening by a hole in the ground, surrounded by billions of bouquets and People he hardly knew.

"Let's get out there, she's waiting."

Both men exited the car and walked through the maddening crowd to find their places near the front, though Nick wished he were somewhere in the back away from it all. She shouldn't have to see him this way.

People went on, talking about how much life she had in her, her accomplishments and all those superficial assets one needs only to survive in the world of old money. They never spoke about her smile or her glass Grey eyes, not a word was uttered about what it was that made them love the terrifyingly beautiful, cynical girl so much... He went on to think that perhaps that didn't occur because they didn't know. They only cared for the way she drank and what clothes she bought and the name she made for herself_ nothing else.

As they all stood around and stared at the large black box in front of them, their heads hung low as they fought to remember the woman in front of them Daisy reached her slender hand out to his for strength yet he didn't move. He stood as hard as a statue, keeping his hands that were balled into fists by his side while he continued to think that she deserved better than this, she and Jay both had.

The funeral was over as fast as it arrived, and Nick knew once the sun would vanish and rise again this would all be forgotten and the people of New York would find something else, something newly scandalous to speak about as if she were never here. She was nothing more to them then a good time and a horrible headline.

As everyone else went to leave he stayed behind, telling Daisy and her father to go along without him, watching as they prepared to put her in the ground to be forgotten forever. For the sake of his Conscious He could decide to stand at her grave and tell her he was nothing like them, that he loved her for so much more yet they both knew it wouldn't be true, he was every bit as awful as them if not worse.

" _However I would like to see you..."_

" _I'm sorry but I can't, I just can't."_

 _"I suppose it was a mistake to give a damn about you but I did. How careless of me."_

He said Nothing to her, just left her in the rubble of a horrible accident caused by neither of them.

 _"In fact I think I'll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I'll sort of — oh — fling you together. You know — lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat"_

He supposed, if it were a different time with a different ending he just might have married her. He just might have come back to find her, as gorgeous and as cynical as she was upon their first-time meeting, dropped down on his knee and changed the course of love as they'd seen it into something much more meaningful. Today, as he sat, propped down on one knee instead he had no ring but one last flower of regret to place on her unforgiving grave.

He spoke no words and moved no further, to busy controlling his internal sobs as they racked inside him. Another one gone, only arriving in his memories and the terrors keeping him awake at night.


End file.
